By the Book
by prettymorning
Summary: Rory-centric:
1. Chapter 1

Part One: By the Book  
She thinks about how he would map out the crevices of her mouth, going over the folds of skin with his tongue.  
_La boca, _she remembers. _The mouth._  
She doesn't like to think of him that much. It's all too depressing, it's all too cliché.  
Heartache can make you very foolish.  
She used to think of fairy tales and books and movies that gave everyone happy endings with people that they love. Now, she's much more cynical. How can you have a happy ending? You fight, you have troubles, someone dies. That's why you choose someone comfortable. You won't mourn too much when they die. You will cry, you will go to the funeral, you will not be attached.  
Her mother had been afraid of settling. She was afraid of doing anything better than settling.  
She loves to read, and she's done it forever, but she will never write because she has nothing to say.  
She decided that Jess would be a phase. Everyone has to date a bad boy, she might as well get it over with while she's young.  
Dean was nice, but it ended because you aren't supposed to last with your first love. She lived her life by the book because that's all she ever knew.  
Jess was a good kisser, but she never responded because it would never last. You never respond, love must be hit and run. You say it back because it's safe and they need to hear it. At first, she wasn't quick enough, and whoops, there it went. Oh well. It came back.  
But with Jess, she slowly found herself deteriorating from her rigid point on love. You don't mistake silver for gold, and you will never mistake your gold for silver.  
Sometimes she wishes she could just be on a boat at night on some ocean so she could see a shark or a whale or something and just know what it's like to be scared. To see a ghost underneath the water and feel absolutely terrified. She thinks that it feels something like being in love.  
Life doesn't seem to be important anymore. Just come out of it without any scars or scratches and you'll be okay. She doesn't even know that he'll be the one thing thing that she'll regret letting go of.  
She didn't grow up around men, so she doesn't know much about them. An image of her grandfather, a couple of her father flit through her head. A mess of phone calls and waiting and wondering why mommy is crying.  
A long time from now, and she'll wonder if her failure to love has anything to do with her father's sporadic part in her life. Blame is something she usually takes but will push away over the years. It's because of the dad, her mom. The weather. Paris. Inflation. Dean. Taylor.  
One day, she decided that if her life were a book, even _she_ wouldn't read it because it would be so boring.  
Sometimes, she would lie down of the floor, her cheek against the nice carpet in their nice place with their nice life. She didn't like it. It felt soft. All her life had seemed soft and fluffy and numb. All except for one part, and you can guess which one that was.   
So now, with her pride tucked away and her heart out of order, Rory Glimore, at the ripe old age of 28, left her home base and headed straight for the unknown.  
Part Two: Never Saw it Coming  
He was sitting down when she told him. She marched up to him while he was folding the laundry and watching a football game. Fire and determination blazed behind her eyes, breaking out behind a pathetic wall of fake sadness. There was also something else there. It was pity. He _hates_ pity. He doesn't want to be pitied.  
I'm sorry, she says.  
Liar. You aren't sorry. Poor Rory, she tries to hide her emotions so much, but anyone can read her like a book. It's because she doesn't need to hide her emotions---or so she thinks. It's almost sad- she can't let herself in her own feelings, yet they're no secret to the rest of the world.  
I just... I need... I need... something else.  
Ah, finally; some honesty.  
Her eyes are dark and stormy. He's never seen them look like that... heavy... and informed.  
Someone else, you mean? he asks. He doesn't want to make this easy on her. He doesn't know why, but all of a sudden, he's spiteful and angry. Why not?  
she exclaims.  
Ah, dependable Rory. She doesn't want to hurt _anybody._  
But that doesn't change the fact that she does.  
Bitch.  
No. It's just... it's, okay, it's time for me to... open my eyes. Start living, she says, her eyes dragging across the room.  
You're bored? What is the _matter_ with him? He hasn't ever felt this mad. Why now?  
Yes. I just... need to be living because it's fun and good, not just be living because I have to.  
Oh, and that's so much better.  
He sighs. Dammit.  
Give in.  
Smile faintly, nodding  
It's okay.  
You suck.  
Thank you. I'm sorry.  
Not!  
Let's stay in touch.  
10 dollars says I'll never see you again.  
Right. I'll go start to pack.  
I will never see you again.  
  
Later, when she's gone--- To a hotel, I'll be fine, she promises--- he sits down with a beer, contemplating where things went wrong.  
Why was he so angry? They hadn't had the most passionate love ever. Why was it so important?  
Because we had a plan,' he thinks.  
Date for 6 months. Live together for 6 months. Be engaged 6 months. Start to try for kids after 6 months of marriage. Have kid. Wait a year. Have another. Boy and girl, tudor house, soccer practice, white picket fence... being that sweet old couple at the nursing home, the one that's just so in love.  
What had gone wrong?  
He goes to sleep with her scent on his pillow, a velvet box with a ring in it clutched in his hand.  
  
Part Three: A Road to Nowhere  
Guilt. Gnawing, painful, horrible guilt. Guilt that she can only remember from her teenage years.  
She thinks of Dean.  
Dean. Floppy haired, tall. Sweet as a puppy dog. She thinks of her time with Dean.  
She likes to think of it as a road (like she does all of her romances). Dean was a gigantic hill. She gradually went up it, pushing and working. It wasn't hard to do, so much--- it was just anticipation. She was always waiting for the passion. But when she finally reached the top of the road-  
Nothing happened. She kept on waiting for the drop and it never happened.   
At least not with Dean.  
See, eventually, that road began to lead upwards. It rose ever so slightly, and she never noticed. When she did notice, she ignored, denied it. But eventually, she can to the top of that hill, and it dropped, and she was speeding along, a whirlwind road, a whirlwind romance.  
She had always found Jess sexy---not just in a physical way. She loved that he could get her riled up about George Orwell, tell her that Mark Twain is a genius and the Brave New World was written by an exaggerating nut.  
That's what she liked about Jess.  
Ahem. Loved about Jess.  
He attracted her to him so easily, with his brilliance and that little fact that her made her blood boil in her veins. He drove her crazy.  
Jess. Jess who hurt her, who treated her like crap while they were dating, who ran off to California or wherever like a little rat.  
Jess. The bastard.  
As... happy? Wonderful? Different... that part of her life was, she doesn't want to go back to Jess. She didn't want to come crying back to him, weeping about how he was the best thing that ever happened to her and wouldn't he please take her back?  
She would be more likely to say... that he took the innocence out of her thoughts.  
And she liked it.  
But as much as she could have changed while she was with Jess, she kept her footing, wishing to remain as the small-town princess for as long as she could.  
You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink it, right?  
Sure.  
And so, the road stopped. And it seemed to always lead to nowhere.  
Now, where does she want the road to go to? Thinking it over, she decides that she's going to get off of the damn road and try a train. She's always gotten carsick anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry about my extended absence. I'll be back more frequently, now.  
Coffee. It had been her crutch for so many years, and it still is. Coffee. With its caffeinated delicious taste.  
"I am going to give up coffee," she decides. Rory Gilmore is taking a break from her life, so she might as well take a break from coffee. Maybe she'll take up tea, or Pilates. Well, not Pilates. Who does she think she's kidding, really.  
She has quite a lot of savings left in her account (still at Bank of Star's Hollow, if you'll believe it). She decides to get an apartment somewhere far from her current life. She was, at the moment, staying in a hotel about 40 minutes out of Star's Hollow. That's too close. She can practically hear the music from Taylor's latest festival, teasing her, mocking her, tempting her.  
She finds an apartment fairly quickly, considering. She moves into a nice studio apartment in Cincinnati. The moment she steps off the plane, she feels oddly refreshed and free.  
She didn't have much to bring with her, and she didn't want much. She bought a twin bed, some sheets and pillows, a couple of lamps, a few kitchen appliances, and a couch.  
Her previous job as a columnist for a fairly well-know Hartford newspaper had not only given her security, but a lot of extra comforts and luxuries. She was able to buy all of the things necessary for her new home and a few month's rent and food, but soon she would have to get some money.  
But for now, she was content to coast in a place of deep self-discovery.  
"I am such a cliche," she thinks to herself.  
A few days into her new endeavor, after calling into work and asking for an emergency leave of absence, she hits the city. As she walks through the streets, she feels a new sense pumping through her veins. The anonymity, the pure fact that no one next to her on the street knew who she was or actually cared was invigorating.

Please Review! 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hey guys, this is the third installment. I went back through the chapters and revised them some, but nothing too drastic. I hope somebody's reading this, and I am so sorry for the absence. I am proud to say, though, that I have finished this and will be posting it in small chapters during this coming week.

She stumbles into her apartment at approximately 2:27a.m. She's just a little bit more than tipsy, and on the way up the stairs she pulled her strappy designer shoes ( a gift, of course, from him) from her feet. She giggles to herself as she tries to maneuver around in the dark, thinking about her night: venturing out alone, to a club, flirting with the bartender, and telling the cab driver her life story (pulled from a Jane Austen novel). She still feels stuck in that place between bubbling happiness and deep, deep depression.  
She tries to make it to her bedroom in the complete darkness, but manages to knock over a box she had yet to unpack.  
Cursing loudly (she can do that now, she lives by herself), she hops to the light switch, then leans down to investigate the spill.  
As she sees the contents of the box, she instantly sobers.  
This is her Logan box.  
Throwing her shoes in the general direction of her bedroom, she leans down to pick up a picture. It's her and Logan, young and glowing with love.  
Logan. Her first real college boyfriend. Logan was beautiful. Logan was glamour and adventure, spontaneity and vivaciousness. With Logan, she always felt happy and full and just a little bit drunk. Logan made her feel special and not so special at the same time. Logan represented the life she might have had, if only Lorelai had stayed. And sometimes, she could help wishing that she had stayed, that her life had been that much easier. She never could tell if what Logan felt for her was love or lust, and sometimes she couldn't tell that about herself either.  
Logan made her nervous. When he would say something sweet to her, she couldn't help but wonder if he had said that exact same thing to another girl, pushed their hair back like he did hers. How many other "Aces" did he have?  
She looks back on their relationship and feels that the entire time, she was only pretending to be a grownup. Even now, when she is a grownup and feels oh so wise and oh so learned, she cannot properly reflect on their relationship. She can't tell if it was good or bad for her, right or wrong. She cannot regret it or appreciate it. This makes it very hard for her to think about Logan.  
A/N 2: Thanks for reading! Now please, please review. 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Here is the next chapter...

The next day, she wakes up, aching and hung over. She moves as though she is walking in Jell-O, and wishes to shake this lethargy. She wants to move fast, watch as life quickly passes her by. She knows that isn't the way things work.  
As she is sifting through her purse for a dime at Starbucks (she hates herself somewhat for this), she comes upon a grocery list, scribbled in his distinctive handwriting.  
Dammit.  
Today was going to be the day she didn't think about him once. The thought of Danny only serves to alienate her, make her feel guilty and sad.  
It's surreal to her, looking at this evidence of her so-called previous life that she only left days ago. Her life today feels so different than it did a week ago. She feels a little bit guilty that Danny had to write a brand new list.  
She didn't want him to hate her. She was Rory Gilmore; she didn't want anybody to hate her!  
Danny was good. He smelled of laundry detergent and newspaper ink. Emily love him, Richard loved him, Lorelai loved him, Lane loved him, even Paris and Luke liked him. And he loved her. This made it a lot easier for her to forgive herself for the fact that she didn't love him.  
She wanted to love him; life would have been so much easier if she did. He was so good to her. He would sit down on the couch with her after dinner, holding her hand while telling her all the things that made him think of her that day. A girl on a bicycle, an mural in the park, a silly joke a coworker e-mailed to him. It made her feel very bad when she realized that she hadn't thought of him at all that day. She promised herself that she would think of him tomorrow. She always broke those promises, though.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review! 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Here it is, the last part. I really, really appreciate everyone who reviewed. I hope everyone enjoyed it!

As she walks the streets of downtown Cincinnati, she carries them with her. The four men of her life, the memories she depends on so badly.  
She cannot bare to let them go, even though she knows that she must if she is going to move on. As she passes by her new-favorite bookstore, she thinks of Jess. Jess smelled of leather and peppermint, cigarette smoke and Hemmingway. He was her very own James Dean. Jess was a classic. As she passes by and expensive restaurant, she thinks of Logan. Logan smelled of expensive cologne and champagne. Logan was pure adventure.  
She walks by a small grocery, a high school boy stocking the shelves with his young fervor, she thinks of Dean. Dean was sweet. Dean was nice, and good and simple. He smelled of vinegar and popcorn.  
Danny pops into her head everyday, at different times. He smelled of newspaper and soap. He was safe, and he was perfect.  
She wanted to leave it all at that, but she just couldn't manage.

She's been through the difficult phone calls with Lorelai, the strangled "Where the hell are you!" yelled into her cell phone. She's tried her best to explain herself, and hopes her mother can understand how she was being suffocated. It anyone would understand, she thinks, her mother should.  
And she did.

She goes through her life, living within each day, not happy or sad, just there, trying to manage to sort out her feelings. She sees the pitying stares from couples on the street, the looks she gets from restaurant hosts when she says it's just dinner for one. It's an odd feeling; she is so obviously alone, and so obviously pitied. She feels terribly indignant when she sees these things. She is now a single woman now, by choice, and is quickly becoming irked by these assumptions people make. Who says she has to be with someone to be complete? She was a girlfriend for the better part of the last twelve years. She has committed, and loved, and been terribly hurt. She has seen firsthand the way breakups can destroy a person's well-being, and is excited about become a new, singular person. She is okay with it, she wants it, and she is ready. She is ready for anything.  
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review---questions, comments, rants, raves, I want all of it! 


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